


Among the Trees

by DigitalSiamese



Category: It Lives (Visual Novels)
Genre: Gen, Grief/Mourning, It Lives in the Woods, Post-Canon, Short, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-20
Updated: 2019-06-20
Packaged: 2020-05-15 03:43:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 326
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19287418
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DigitalSiamese/pseuds/DigitalSiamese
Summary: No one really talks about the woods anymore.





	Among the Trees

There’s something that lives in the woods. Or at least that’s what they say.

After the incident at Westchester High and the death of one of the students, the woods became a place to be feared, to be avoided. A few locals will speak of the place in hushed whispers, never more than a few words at a time; but most will say nothing of it at all.

All the families that used to live by the woods have moved away, save for one: a mother and a father, haunted by the loss of their child - the parents of the student that died. They gave up pretending that they were planning on moving away ages ago. Everyone knows that they aren’t going to leave.

At the edge of the tree line stands a pile of smooth rocks, surrounded by a collection of items: bright flowers; hand-written notes; a baseball bat carefully wrapped in barbed wire; several photographs that all have one face in common. It’s a plea for peace, an offering to keep the tears at bay, a final goodbye.

No one is ever seen visiting the memorial, yet the flowers are always replaced before they wilt away.

But despite the rumors, despite the tragedy, despite the quiet glances every time they are mentioned, the woods themselves are welcoming, almost...friendly. Thin trails weave between the trees, worn down by deer and foxes. Sunlight slips between the branches, warm and bright. Wildflowers grow along the stream. Birds sing happily. And in the middle of it all, in the middle of the life and death and growth of the forest, a dark stone building slowly crumbles into nothing, waiting for the earth to claim it once more. This building was many things, _is_ many things. It is here that something is said to live.

Stories, surely. But if you listen closely, you might hear a bright note as if from a whistle, carried along in the wind.

**Author's Note:**

> Guess who just finished this book and is really not over it.


End file.
